Hierophant
by bigowlenergy
Summary: Four times Naofumi healed someone else, one time he was hurt by someone, and all the times he hurt others.
1. Raphtalia: A Long Rotted Sickness

Raphtalia is not a fool, or a weak, naive child in need of constant care. She is _not_ a child anymore, _thank you_ Naofumi. She is an adult in all the ways that count.

She does _not_ need to be tucked in close to the fire and she does _not_ need more medicine than before, _thank you Naofumi._ It's certainly true that her sickness has eased greatly under Naofumi's care, and that this is the worst attack she's suffered in weeks, but still. It's just her usual cough; it always grows worse in the cold, in the dry air of winter.

It's coming on fall now, and the air holds a crisp chill that both rasps in Raphtalia's throat and gives her the oddest sensation of pleasant change. It feels good, somehow, to be bundled up in thick woolen hoods and traveling through the beautiful countryside, waiting for snow. The forest here is lovely, all dense, heavy pines that perfume the air with sap, and soft floors thick with needles. Filo certainly enjoys kicking up great piles of duff and building nests for their campsites. The harvests are flowing well, too, giving plenty of ingredients for both meals and medicine. The cart is so well loaded that when Raphtalia leans back and looks up through the hanging herb bundles she can almost banish her nausea by convincing herself she's in a forest instead of a flimsy wooden vehicle.

It isn't working so well now, however. Even sitting perfectly still on the firm earth, Raphtalia's head is spinning a bit and her ears are ringing.

Filo sniffles again, snug up against Raphtalia's back in her Queen form, radiating more heat than the fire. Raphtalia sighs - or tries to, then does her level best to hold her cough in instead - and worms her hand out of the blanket prison to pat at her ruffled feathers soothingly. Filo nuzzles back, too tired to go for another round of_ are you okay now, big sis?_

Raphtalia is fine. She's not even wounded, not really. Not that any of them stay wounded with Naofumi around, anyway. There is no use fussing over injuries when they only last minutes. But this time -

It was the usual fight against a mob of weak monsters, the kind that live in the deep forests near roads and wait for traveling adventurers like themselves to settle in for the night. Most of the mob had gone down quickly, but one of the bigger fiends had swung suddenly to charge Raphtalia, trying to gore her on its antlers. She'd dodged, ending up between its antlers instead. When she and had gone to parry with her sword, the pressure of its skull against her chest had set off her weak lungs instead. Filo had taken it down, then stood over Raphtalia, working up a panic when the older girl could only gasp in loud, desperate breathes for minutes on end.

Raphtalia could barely see when an attack overcame her, but she could take it fully on faith that the one embracing her and pressing something hot to her chest was Naofumi.

Now she was not-sulking near the fire, bundled firmly in all the blankets they owned when she and Filo had just _finally_ managed to bully Naofumi into using more than his cape. When she'd been small, it had been fine, but now that Raphtalia is more aware of things, she can easily say that sleeping in their clothes is one thing, but using your clothes as a bed roll and blanket combo when they have both in the wagon, _it's right there, five feet away Naofumi, just use a blanket, please_ \- She sighs, and a small cough tumbles out. It's settled to a dull, strained ache rather than any true pain or breathlessness, at least.

Naofumi is there, then, with a small cup of steaming herbs and a more nefarious bowl in hand. Raphtalia's ears go flat against her head and neither of them say anything for a few mulish seconds. She feels her lungs rattle with a coming cough and relents, struggling out of the blankets fully and baring her chest for treatment. Naofumi sighs at her and kneels down, handing her the cup.

Raphtali turns her head and holds it close in one hand, obediently breathing in the steam. The smell is so familiar now, sharp and green and warm, and it soothes her irritated throat and sinuses. Chases away the pounding in her skull and fills it with a soft fog instead. It's soothing in its familiarity alone. Every night of her new life with him and out of the cruel cycle of ownership and break and return had been perfumes with this scent. Her most pleasant memories now are laden with the bitter medicine of herbs.

Naofumi peels the cooled, tacky compress off her chest, rubbing her arm absently when she shivers in the sudden cold. It's the wrong situation to be embarrassed in, and Raphtalia isn't. She's just frustrated, in a small way.

She's not a child anymore, and she wants a different kind of reaction and attention paid to her when her breasts are exposed. His hands are large and warm and very professional as he wipes the spicy scented poultice off her throat and sternum, eases the damp cloth around her breasts like her nipples mean nothing to him. He'd looked at that weird pinecone Filo found yesterday with more interest. As always, Naofumi is a medical saint with a gruff bedside manner at best, and the paste is reapplied and the newly warmed compress put back in place without comment. Well, not entirely. He does apologize again.

It's genuinely not often that either Raphtalia or Filo are injured anymore. Usually Naofumi is a perfect shield for them, no matter how far away his position on the battlefield is. But no one is perfect, even a Legendary Hero. Even the Shield. He isn't hovering as badly as he did when Raphtalia had been cursed by his flames - he had never stopped fretting over her then, until even Filo had gotten fed up with it - but still, she knows that he's not going to be sleeping tonight.

If it were anyone else, knowing that someone was watching over her in her sleep and tending to a fire to keep her warm might be romantic - or maybe creepy. With Naofumi, it's just - safe. Sad, almost. It makes her chest ache in a different, heavier way than pain when he does that. Like the weight of his guilt is pressing down on her, too. She doesn't remember the first time she consciously noticed his vigils, since as far as she is aware he's always done that.

Still, looks like it'll be Raphtalia's turn to guide Filo tomorrow.

"Naofumi," She tries anyway, but her voice comes out weak and small and she has to clear her throat with the steam to be heard, "This is enough, I think. You can sleep now, so don't worry anymore, okay?" And it is true: she can feel the slight numbing of the poultice sinking in deep and loosening the tight strain on her lungs, can feel the steam clearing her head. Can feel the peculiar and singular sensation of his magic, something _dull_ and _round_ in the way a metaphysical thing shouldn't be. She'll be fine now, just like all the other times this has happened.

"Alright, just let me clean up here, Raphtalia." When she stretches out her hand, Naofumi takes it and nods before reluctantly leaving her side, clearing away the bowl and used herbs. He's lying, but she humors him and lets him tuck the blankets back into place anyway. She still has too much of a headache to bother arguing.

And sure enough, a few moments later, Raphtalia hears the familiar rhythm of his herb grinder pick back up. That scent - that sound - it's all familiar and warm and good, but things are even better now. Raphtalia won't need another dose in the morning. They won't have to suffer the indignity of the deepest alleys and the cheapest tavern for their next meal. Raphtalia will not wake up screaming tonight. Naofumi can sleep in the wagon instead of growing more exhausted and sharp tongued throughout an overlong day of fighting alone.

Raphtalia is strong now, and they have Filo besides. They are not alone. They're free now, with the Queen on their side.

The low fire crackles and Filo breathes. Raphtalia falls asleep slowly, then all at once.


	2. Rino and the Spear: Field Medicine

Rino is down.

Motoyasu only notices after the fight is over. This is why he doesn't want women in his party! It's so dangerous! But Myne had explained that the matriarchal politics of the country encouraged more women adventurers than men, and it's certainly not like he's _trying_ to find a guy. There's at least plenty of beautiful women, which is good because they keep wanting to split off on their own for whatever reason. It's alright, he's so inspiring and so good at helping them gain early XP - as a leader he can't help but be proud! Besides, he doesn't need anyone else, he has Myne. If that scoundrel Naofumi needs two girls to support him, then Motoyasu the gentleman only needs one.

Or five.

Besides, Rino is good at... well, there's a sword near her unconscious form. He's fairly certain he's remembering her name correctly, too. Rino of the curled dark hair, of the dark skin, of the impressive bust. Yes, Rino. She and her friend - sister? They look alike to Motoyasu - had joined them near the border of Faubrey. Myne had warned him that the women there didn't make good adventurers like the women of Melromarc did, but both had been fine so far! Not in this moment, maybe, but. He supposes they must have had to train harder, if they weren't raised for it.

Her friend - Friedia? Frida? Friggia? - lifts her up to check her condition. A third beautiful party member rushes past Motoyasu to bring potions over to the fallen woman. Ah, what a shame he wasn't able to fight well enough to keep them all out of it! He should rectify this! Earn some loyalty points - maybe even get a kiss of gratitude.

"Ah, ladies! Allow me, as leader, to treat my team mates! You all deserve a break, now!"

His girls smile wanly, hair tousled and MP exhausted, and back off, handing out the potions. Someone else picks up the sword; Motoyasu doesn't notice. They move into the shade and grass on the side of the road on Elena's - Elana's? Allanah's? - suggestion, once she points out the wagon approaching in the distance. Ha, if this is an adventurer seeking out the job about the monster infestation, they have arrived too late! The Great Spear - and party - have already cleared the area.

A fully grown woman is a little heavy, but Motoyasu is a man - he can handle it. He keeps the beautiful Rino in his lap and angles her head delicately in the crook of his arm. The rich luster of her hair compliments his armor scheme nicely. He uncorks the Minor Healing potion and pauses. Isn't this the type of situation where the dashing hero takes some of it in his mouth and kisses the injured lady...? Ah, if only such an action wasn't legitimately a little gross. It would only make a mess and get the bitter taste of the potion in his mouth. Not very romantic at all. He tips a little of the potion into her slack mouth. Waits.

Nothing happens.

He frowns and pours a little more. Rino coughs, the potion spilling. Gross.

"What the hell are you doing? She's going to choke!" The very unwanted voice rings out with an unwanted opinion from the roadside. The Villain of the Shield has jumped down from the wagon they were waiting to pass by them and makes his uninvited way over the grass. Raphtalia sits in the driver's seat. The Bird stares deep into Motoyasu's soul.

Motoyasu would raise his spear, but his arms are currently full of girl. A girl that the Demon Shield is stomping his way towards, face like a thundercloud.

"You can't get an unconscious person to drink like that." He snaps, like he knows better or something. Apparently Naofumi doesn't know when to leave. When he isn't wanted. The rest of Motoyasu's party is backing off, keeping away from the Shield, just like Myne always told them to. Where is Myne, actually?

"Well then, how should it be done?" He snaps back, trapped and alone against the Shield in the grass. He expects an argument and is surprised by the harried advice he gets instead.

"Raise her head more. No, straight up. Put your hand under her chin - hold her neck - no, not like that - you have to push a bit, here -" Motoyasu quickly becomes lost in the string of instructions, the demands of exact positioning extremely precise and also very badly tempered. Finally, Naofumi has had enough, and knocks his hand away, snatching Rino from his grasp like a mouse from a field. By a hawk. It's not an elegant metaphor, but Motoyasu is more concerned with how professional - nay, _practiced_ \- Naofumi's woman snatching skills are. He couldn't even put up a fight, although he also didn't want to accidentally pull her hair. But just like that, Naofumi's arm is under Rino's neck and she's been leveraged to sit more upright.

Naofumi settles Rino against his chest and tips her head back, positioning his fingers on her throat like a violinist, then pours the potion into her mouth in small doses. She doesn't cough this time, and none spills. The potion glows with his magic, clarified to a higher degree of potency, his interface informs him. Motoyasu didn't know he could do that.

The sun finally comes out, casting the scene he has been banished from in full, glittering light. It's like the cover of a romance novel - one of the good ones. Rino, in a state of perfect dishabille, rests in his arms, her luscious hair flowing over his arm, resting against the deep green cape. His whole outfit screams wild, rugged adventurer, with the white fur and the deep colors and the dark, brooding expression. Motoyasu wanted that scene. But with more class.

Finally, the potion is gone, and Naofumi hands the empty bottle off to one of the other girls. Ah - he'd been so absorbed in the moment that he hadn't noticed everyone coming close, also watching. They should be behind him, for their own safety. Myne should have something to say about all this - but when Motoyasu scans them, he finds no redheaded princess. Maybe she had gone to be away from the Shield...? That seems odd; she's usually so brave about it, and trusts him to protect her.

"...could you bless this potion, too?" One of the girls - Setti? Sati? Sarah? - asks the Shield tentatively, holding another healing potion.

"Oh, definitely not! Myne will -"

"Not for free." Naofumi interrupts his protest. "This'll cost you, too." He's looking at Motoyasu now.

"Well-!" He blusters. "I had it. What kind of cheat are you even using to upgrade potions like that?"

Naofumi stares at him. "It's _magic_. Why do you always think of cheating first?"

"Well, it's unbecoming of the Legendary Heroes to use lowly magic!" He ignores the sly cheating comment. Motoyasu knows when to be the bigger man. Myne always told him - reminded him - that the Legendary Weapons are sacred, powerful objects. He's a Hero, not a caster! He shouldn't bother wasting his time on _studying sorcery_ when he can just have pretty casters in his party! Like Myne. Where is she...?

Naofumi stares harder for a few obnoxious seconds, then turns his attention to Rino when she moans, softly, and then stirs awake. It's another delicate scene, stolen from him. It should be the Legendary Hero of the Spear who Rino opens her eyes to - it should be Motoyasu getting that dewy, newly awakened look of innocent confusion. He'd swoop in with promises to protect her better, with assurances of her health and wellbeing -

"You'll be fine now," Naofumi says, like a crass, gruff asshole.

Then he helps her sit up fully, hands on her back until she's steady, then stands to offer her a hand up. Motoyasu should put a stop to this. Motoyasu can't move. Doesn't know what to do. Where is Myne? He should be attacking the disgusting Shield Villain in her honor, but he's surrounded by the innocent women of his own party. Why isn't Myne telling him what to do instead? She always understands things better than he does!

Myne would know how to make this situation better for Motoyasu.

"Take her to sit down somewhere for a while. And get some water. And you," He says, turning his attention to the Spear as he finally rises. "Pay up. High level potions are extra."

"You - Shield Demon, you don't deserve the King's money, you -"

"What was that?" Naofumi calls, cupping one hand around his ear and leaning into Motoyasu's space. "You can't afford it? The Spear Hero has squandered all his money on booze and women?"

There's no crowd here, and so Motoyasu has no reason to feel intimidated. None at all.

"How much?" He keeps his voice low, tries to ignore the heat creeping into his face.

"Ten silver."

Motoyasu splutters. "That's - that's too much!"

"Oh?" Says the Shield again, using the same obnoxious tone of incriminating childishness. "The Spear Hero's party is worth so little to him? He's put a price on those girl's heads, and they're _cheap_."

He pays ten silver for Rino's potion and two more a piece for higher level potions. Some of the girls buy things from his wagon, sold by the lovely Raphtalia, who looks much put upon. Motoyasu knows the feeling.

They leave without the blessing of Filo being cute in his presence, turning down the path deeper into the forest. Motoyasu turns away from the crossroads to head back into the village when he spots Myne coming back up the hill.

"Myne!" He cries, bounding forward, his dashed spirits rising again. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, once we had everything taken care of I went down to the village for some drinks! I figured we could use it after that fight." Oh, thank goodness she wasn't exposed to the Shield Demon, then! She smiles beatifically, proffering a small basket with five drinks, dripping with condensation in the heat. Motoyasu pauses. Goes through the numbers in his head.

"Ah, but there's six of us?"

Myne doesn't drop her good-natured smile, though it goes a little brittle around the edges. She leans around Motoyasu and he turns as well. All four party members are sitting on a low wall, one of them fanning Rino with a large leaf. Myne isn't smiling much anymore, but she corrects it when he looks over to her.

"Well..." She begins shyly, "I was hoping you wouldn't mind sharing one with me?"

Motoyasu's annoyance over the newest Shield Encounter evaporates instantly. Of course he would love to share a sweet drink with Myne!

It would have been a sweet end to the day, too, but then they discover that the wily Demon of the Shield had stolen Rino's sword when they were distracted.


	3. Ren and NPCs: Sacred Flowers

Those few horrible seconds between Naofumi calling out the Blood Sacrifice and it being taken had stolen the breath from Ren's lungs. Knocked the spark of hope he hadn't known he'd had out of his chest. Just for a second. Maybe because he is a Legendary Hero or maybe because he is genre savvy, he'd known something terrible was coming. His sword had trembled for a fraction of a second.

And then the blood had poured out like water and some terrible, ugly thing had eaten the Pope of the Three. They'd won.

For the first time, instead of Naofumi winning it all, they'd worked together.

Then Naofumi had collapsed in the crater, kneeling in a pool of his own blood. His party had pulled him up, and Ren had thought that was the end of it, but then none let go and the Queen on the edge of the cliff above had called for the knights to prioritize the Shield. It was a strange thing to hear, but Ren had been glad of it. Finally, things were changing. Things were changing and the whole earth was red.

Then, in the castle's healing chambers, Ren had watched Naofumi be stripped of his armor, revealing the woundless Curse burns he'd inflicted on himself, before being bandaged by silent ghosts. The glow of the high level healing magic had almost canceled out the sunset that had clung to every plane of white and glass inside the chamber.

Ren's wounds had also been healed by the professional healers at the castle and like usual, it was - odd. Ren is used to potions. Used to the utilitarian healing from Bakta, or the rough but effective healing from Naofumi, however rare. Bakta's magic is hot, pointed, almost sharp as it seeks out injury, but Naofumi's is a cresting wave of air, like a bubble passing through the body. The healers at the castle have magic that feels like light, almost uncomfortably bright. Melromarc's healers are silent, purposeful things that glide around the healing chamber in white robes, filling the silence with the soft hushing of fabric and muted whispers. It all echoes in the massive ceilings, amplifying the silence itself until it feels like a sacred thing to be kept unbroken.

And now Naofumi is wrapped in white bandages, in a white bed, pale from the massive blood loss and silent.

The Shield is laid out in one of the larger, more lavish alcoves of the wide chamber. Ren had been seated in the one opposite in the aftermath, his minor wounds needing nothing more than quick healing. Both he and Itsuki hadn't had the time to gear up with healing potions. Neither had conserved MP during the battle. It had been the correct choice to make, at the time - no use holding back when the knights would appear, anyway. Or when Naofumi would eventually relent and heal them. Well, he'd heal their parties. Or their own healers. Or no one. Depends on how he felt about them at the time, which while usually negative, occasionally rose to neutral for his own inscrutable reasons.

Well, he isn't entirely a mystery. Motoyasu's party always goes ignored.

Ren walks into the open alcove without bothering to ask for permission or anything - he's a Legendary Hero and these are just NPC's, anyway - it's not like he's creeped out by them and doesn't want to have to watch the way their veiled faces skate over him until addressed or anything. Inside the small, sun bright room is Naofumi's ridiculously tiny party - Raphtalia is asleep, leaning forward in a visitors chair to pillow her arms on the bed, and Filo is spread out like a starfish at the foot of it, equally asleep and snoring. Ren knows their names despite never having been introduced because Naofumi directs them personally in battle, and it's kind of hard not to hear.

His own party is perfectly self sufficient and only there to provide backup to his own sword, anyway. It's different.

The Shield is silent, but that is different too, somehow. Even when Naofumi is at his most surly - mouth pinched in a harsh line, eyes hard, arms crossed behind his shield as he says nothing to them in a perfect tone of silence that fills the air with unspoken words and anger. Even when he's biting his tongue, the air thick with hatred and obviously primed to explode into an argument that he clearly wants to have - wants to throw his words at them like knives, like fire - when he's silent in that heavy way that means Motoyasu needs to shut his damn mouth before he gets shield bashed and then all of them get the cold shoulder for several weeks - he's never rendered truly _quiet_. His very presence is loud enough to fill every ounce of space in a room like a vacuum. Steals all the air from everyone else's lungs. An angry Naofumi burns low and hot and cannot go unnoticed. Ren has never seen him - relaxed, basically.

Ren has also honestly never seen the other hero injured before, to his knowledge. He's kind of assumed it was impossible.

But this isn't a normal injury.

It's not like Ren feels guilty about it or anything else equally useless. There's nothing he could have done to prevent this save for leveling up more before the sudden betrayal of the people who worshiped him. Them. Everyone but Naofumi.

Maybe it had been too obvious all along, but there also hadn't been any hints about that Legendary Hero Weapon Mimic! That wasn't fair! Any game worth its salt would have been dropping a few hints. None of the other bosses have been a surprise. Why would a villain in a game plot silently and attack perfectly to their own advantage without giving the players even a chance to gear up first? It doesn't make sense.

Well, there had been a hint. The Rosary Naofumi had tossed to him across that cliff had burned in Ren's inventory until he finally gave in and convinced Itsuki to investigate it with him. Every situation around Naofumi is so endlessly complicated - why can he not just settle down and be a proper villain or manage to act more like a Hero? It's infuriating.

But still, Ren and Itsuki had only just begun their investigation into the Church when it had all gone sideways. How could they have known it was a trap? They should have been able to gather more information before being dropped into a fight. Letting the player characters make their own moral choices required them to be able to find information. Why had they been prevented from doing so?

The monologue had been informative, at the least.

This place is all white, washed out in the sun. No blood. No wrathful silence. It's strange. A quiet call of surprise gets Ren's attention.

"Sword Hero!" A young male NPC salutes Ren from the entrance, then pauses on the short stairs.

"I'm not intruding, am I?"

"No." Ren replies, not certain who this is. The visitor is dressed down in the usual villager clothing, but wears a higher level Defense buff necklace, balances a box under one arm.

"Sir!" The man says in a pitched whisper in deference to the silence, saluting him again in confirmation. A knight? In training, maybe? That equipment, though -

"Are you a member of the Shield's party?" Ren asks somewhat cautiously.

"Yes! Sorry for not introducing myself, I am Tad Ceres, Squad Leader under the Shield Hero!"

So he does have more than two people on his side. Squad Leader implies Squad, and with this man being a member of the knights, there must be more of them in the castle. Strange. Ren had thought Naofumi kept his party small for practical or maybe asshole reasons. And it had seemed that the massive negative Social stat had kept every other NPC well away.

Well, no accounting for taste - after all, Ren is here, too.

The knight glances past Ren at the open chair, shifting the box under his other arm.

"Do you mind if I set this here? It's for Raphtalia and Filo." Why is Ren being asked? He's not a healer or a party member._ So why is he here at all, then -?_

"It's fine." He responds just to get this little scene over with.

The knight nods, then sets the plain box on the chair. Straightens up, looking down at Naofumi, one hand rising up to clutch his necklace. Neither of them say anything and since Ren is not prompted to speak, he ignores it. Doesn't know what to say. As usual. Tries to. Thinks about it all anyway, and recognizes the equipment as something from Naofumi. Thinks about all the blood that had stained the earth. Abruptly drops his crossed arms, feeling foolish.

Ren leaves.

* * *

At the site of the fall of the Church lies a deep pit. Ren assumed it would eventually be filled in, since it was directly outside a gateway in the border. Not really a place to be left to rubble.

Ren goes to it, because the words Naofumi had drilled into his head so long ago had stayed true. As Heroes, they did great damage with their power and abilities. It was also their duty to control that power and to limit damage. Ren had been doing his best to do so - destroying the corpses of high level monsters with fire, being less free with his strikes, which had once felled trees - and this deep hole in the earth is also something to be considered for damage reduction.

But when he arrives, there are more people than he expected.

A large crowd is gathered, but none hold tools. In fact, construction is going on a small distance away, opening up a new entrance into the wall rather than working to repair the original, which had a straight path to the well worn road.

A woman exits the crowd directly in front of Ren, holding a small vial of something close to her chest. He focuses on it, his interface scanning the item quickly.

**Blessed Flower Tincture - Hero's Blessing. High level healing abilities.**

Ren pushes his way through the crowd. Someone sees, and by the time he's halfway there, there are cheers for the heroes going up and a path carved out for him.

The edge of the unnatural cliff is ringed with people. There are rope ladders descending down and soldiers guarding them. They greet him with salutes, then step aside.

Inside the crater -

Flowers.

Small green and white things like clovers, waving in the light breeze, grown directly out of the hard packed soil and broken bedrock. They follow the pattern that Naofumi's blood painted on the earth, well up from the small canyon where the Dragon's Jaws sprouted, crawl up the sides of the cliffs. Ren is speechless, different from usual. He wants to be able to say something. But there's nothing coming out.

"Blessed Flowers." One of the Queen's soldiers tells him. "They won't last long, so it's three to every person. I'm sure you can be granted a greater number, Sword Hero."

"No," Ren manages after a time, his words coming back to him on the breeze. The flowers small strange - a scent close to pepper, slightly herbal, nothing like blood.

"No, I - only came to see."

He stands aside and watches ordained workers harvest the thin bounty. Watches the reactions of the people who have come out from their homes, their remote villages, their own healer's chambers. Joy. Tears. Happiness.

_Do they know_, Ren wonders, frozen in the soft breeze, _do they know it's the Shield Hero's blood?_

_Do they know it's Naofumi's sacrifice?_

_Do they know how hateful he is? How crass and rude and villainous?_

_Do they know that he still hasn't woken up yet?_

No one approaches him - no one tries to thank him. Praise him. Like it could have been his blood, flooding that earth. Blooming into flowers. Like they know it wasn't him.

He stays until the crowd dwindles. He stays as the workers pluck the last petals from the earth. He stays as they clean up the ropes and buckets and extra vials. He stays as night falls.

Ren only stirs when a small glow catches his eye. A few feet beneath his boots is a single flower, glowing faintly in the night, swaying silently. Caught in a small crack in the stone. It's smaller than the others were, its stem thin and drooping. A single droplet must have fallen there. This must be the area where they pulled him out. Must be where the flowers were first spotted, near the lip of the crater.

Ren watches the flower for a long, long time.

Naofumi wakes up a day or so later, and the world changes again.


	4. Naofumi: Loss of Trust

They're at a tavern in another world.

_They're at a tavern in another world._

A genuine, lightless tavern, with dark purple wine and homecooked food and rowdy adventurers crowding the rough wooden tables. A real other world with divine swords and spears and bows. And shields.

Although the shield seems to be everyone's afterthought here, it's still his and he's still in _another world_.

Naofumi has never been one for immersing himself in video games all day, is more than willing to call himself _casual_ since he actually had a life back home, albeit a boring one. Still, he's completely aware of the perfect trope adherence in the aesthetics so far. _A stone castle headed by a desperate king - a great Calamity to end the world - prophesied heroes - candles lighting up the night - foreign flags on the corners of buildings - crowds and carts and wagons pulled by huge birds in the streets - a tavern to meet up in - partying up with other adventurers -_

Well, the last part hasn't really happened just yet. So far it's only Naofumi and Myne, party of two. She's a stranger to him still, but very kind and patient, willing to give the weaponless Shield a helping hand. Willing to wait the solid few minutes it takes him to squish a single balloon, kneeling in the lush grass, punching it like a stress ball. The look on her face when that first lucky bite had slipped past his inexperienced shielding had been hilarious, looking back. Not quite a flinch in sympathy, but a wince of understanding, just waiting for the inevitable screaming and whatever first aid might come next. But the waiting had continued in silence for a good few seconds, and in that time a second had bounced up from the grass and latched on to him.

Naofumi's defense stat was so high that not only could such low HP enemies not inflict damage on him, they physically could not hurt him, either. It was their first positive revelation, and they spent the later half of the day using him as a lure, Myne golf clubbing balloons his way with her sword until they had a good sized clutch of them to go through in search of XP. Maybe there was something magnetic about his defense, or perhaps they ultimately just liked biting, because they had resolutely clung to Naofumi like kittens stuck on their own claws. Myne had to check him over at the gate for stragglers before reentering the city that evening. It reminded Naofumi of the tick checks he and his brother had to do after coming home from camping in the summers when they were small. Were there ticks in this world? He really hoped not, but the realism so far had been astounding.

Everything here is astounding. And this is only level one! Video game logic permeates every living thing here, so it's only going to get even more exciting as they advance.

And they will, slowly but surely, Naofumi is certain of this, as he has been for every video game he's ever played in - well, his world. Reality? A different world from here. Perhaps tomorrow will see the start of their party hunting, however that's usually done here, when not ordained by the rude king.

Myne laughs at something one of the other heroes in the tavern is shouting somewhere in the crowd behind them, drawing Naofumi's attention back to her. He's gotten used to her enough that he can look away, and besides he's not some drooling idiot who plays games for the hot elves or companion romance or whatever. Myne is beautiful, in an oddly familiar way, since she looks vaguely European, although her hair is a brighter red than Naofumi would ever assume natural in his world. The color is more enchanting than her face, but Naofumi isn't really concerned with that. He's just happy to have at least one person on his side.

Myne catches his eye and smiles, then tips her half empty glass into his full one where it's been resting untouched on the table. He hadn't wanted to seem rude and didn't know how to politely tell the waitress - tavern keeper? bar maiden? - _no thanks_.

"A toast," She offers, clinking the glasses expertly, pushing his closer. Naofumi raises his hands somewhat awkwardly, used to fending off well meaning drunks.

"No thanks, I don't really drink." The explanation ends there because otherwise the drinking contests start and Naofumi hates being on sober hair holding duty. She does seem like the type, but people can get rowdy when drunk. He'd rather avoid it altogether.

Myne hums around a sip of her own wine, then looks across the table at him with an odd levelness.

"Why not?" She asks, and she sounds - curious. Confused. Not argumentative, or pushy. She doesn't reach for his glass again, or call the waitress over for a pitcher. Of course - this is a different world. Things must be different here, culturally speaking. Maybe drinking is less of a normalized social nicety and more about celebrations or something. Maybe it's easier to avoid, here. Mead always seems to flow like a river in video game taverns, but this is so much more real than that. He'd always been a heavy weight and had lost his taste for alcohol once he figured out he had to suffer through the taste for hours to even get a buzz. No point in trying to play catch up when everyone else would be passed out once he got there. It was equally entertaining to be the one sober enough to take good photos, and to be sure his friends or his brother got home safe.

"I don't get drunk easily, and if there's only the taste it isn't much worth it." He says, keeping it simple.

"Really? Still, this is a matriarchy, you know? Not many men would be brave enough to refuse a drink from me."

"Is that so?" Naofumi asks, somewhat interested.

"Mhm," Says Myne, tipping her head, eyes closed serenely, looking all for the world like she's ignoring him. This might be the part where he ducks out of the party and lets Myne find a more fun drinking partner for the night. He's not offended, just a bit tired of it. But then Myne leans forward in the dimness and -

"That's fine. You don't need it." Those words should be reassuring in this situation, but her tone is off somehow, her expression strange, and her hand is gripping his knee under the table. Naofumi becomes hyperaware of the unfamiliar weight of his chain mail tunic, how it makes her too tight grip feel like its all over his body, dragging all the way down from his shoulders. He shudders involuntarily, jerks away, and his back hits the bench soundly, just barely escaping her sudden touch.

Myne's face falls, and Naofumi goes to apologize, unable to articulate _why_ her touch felt so wrong, even to himself -

"_Shield_," And she says it with such vehemence, her mouth twisting down into a small sneer, the goblet hitting the table with a heavy, final sort of noise, her eyes hard and sharp on the frozen Naofumi. He can't do anything but listen. The noise in the bar - tavern - is too loud against her sudden quiet intensity and he has to lean in to concentrate on her words.

Her words -

"You don't know who I am. We kept it quiet because I wished to join a hero without it being a production, but I am the princess here."

Her words -

"This is _my_ country, and I am above you, _Shield_. You don't have the right to refuse me."

Her touch -

Upstairs, the sounds of laughter and revelry echo and echo and echo through the dark, claustrophobic wood of the tall hallway. Without electricity there are only the pinpricks of candles in the room, and Myne takes that out, too. Her bare fingers pinch the flame and snuff it out instantly. There's a part of his jaw that feels - that doesn't feel - but it didn't _hurt_, like the bites of the monsters in the field didn't hurt, like the sharp edges of her nails don't hurt, like her teeth don't hurt. Like this betrayal.

The shield on his arm, heavy and unwieldy and _worthless_, prevents all damage.

When he wakes up, it all feels like a dream. But there's a roughly woven blanket itching at his skin, dark wood on the ceiling, dawn pouring in from a sun that's a little whiter than he's used to, an unfamiliar ache in his body, armed soldiers at the door.

"_He - came into my room and -!_" Myne cries, and Naofumi's stomach bottoms out. Remembers the alcohol. How much had she had? He should have been keeping watch. He knows better than that. What if this is some horrible misunderstanding? If she doesn't actually think those things, didn't intend to - do -

But with everyone's back to her, her artfully trembling hands spread and reveal a beautiful little smile to Naofumi, and he thinks - he doesn't know what to think, there hasn't been any time to think, not since last night -

Myne sticks out her tongue and pulls a face of mockery behind the heroes backs, in front of the king, and Naofumi understands.

_I decide who becomes a hero here, and there's no way I'd let a worthless fucking _shield_ do it._

And just like that, Naofumi's fantasy shatters.


	5. Sword and Bow: Stitches

The most deadly situation they have faced yet comes from a surprising source.

All four Heroes are standing around in some empty town, half stand off, half intervention - the usual configuration despite the changes wrought by the recent trial. Their footing is uncertain, no longer on solid ground, but the steps to this particular dance are easily remembered.

Ren and Itsuki had come to this place together, Itsuki receiving the quest directly from the Queen's agents. Motoyasu is uninvited, but so is the Shield, who was already on the scene when they arrived. Although his - their - understanding of the situation is different now, everything is still tense, to put it lightly. The Shield's attitude doesn't invite pity, though his words echo uncomfortably in Itsuki's skull.

Then a low fog is simply everywhere.

Naofumi makes a noise of supreme annoyance, and none of his party react to the threat properly, as usual. The other Heroes fall away from one another, getting into a defensive formation with their own parties.

Something huge lumbers out of the mist, looming high above them. Itsuki goes to draw back his bow -

Several things happen in quick succession.

First, the string _digs_ into his fingers like a live wire, resisting his pull like the fog is made of cement. He forces the draw, but there is a strange weight to it, something out of alignment, something that knocks the arrow from its rest when he releases it, something that grazes sharply at his cheek, snaps against his stabilizing arm with shocking pain.

The Legendary Hero of the Bow flubs the shot and drops his weapon. The arrow sinks into the ground a few feet away. The side of his mouth and his arm sting like fire.

Second, the Shield addresses the monster.

"Fitoria, what are you -!"

"Heroes of Legend." Intones the massive shadow, bright eyes like an owl, like beacons through the fog. "You will save this world, or you will all die by my hand. Band together. Overcome."

Then it is gone.

Third, there is silence.

Itsuki's party rushes to him as he raises his bow from the dry dirt, calling out their concern.

"Now what the hell have you done?!" Motoyasu explodes at the Shield.

"The Demon of the Shield is even conscripting monsters to do his bidding now!" Myne calls out.

Something rushes in from the fog bank on the outskirts of the village. Rishia screams and barely manages to duck as a low level monster launches over her. One of Ren's party cuts it down.

The weapons that were held close earlier are drawn, half toward where the forest was before the fog, half toward the Shield. He may be innocent of a greater crime, but reputations like _that_ don't come from nowhere. Itsuki has heard nothing but negative stories about him, save from his own mouth and the odd rumors about his merchant healing. Besides, he _does _use monsters, despite the accusation coming from M - Bitch. The low levels from the fields of Melromarc and that enormous filolial beast. Itsuki rarely bothers to interact with him - and before a bare few weeks ago, why would he? Who knows what he's been up to behind the scenes. He got that power from somewhere.

"Explain." Ren says tersely, interrupting another round of accusations.

"Fitoria is - angry that the Heroes aren't cooperating. She'll kill us if we don't - " He cuts himself off, voice bitter. It's getting hard to see him through the fog. All four parties are slowly drawing in, crowding around the Shield's wagon as the most visible landmark. Someone with a battleaxe gets in front of Itsuki and he loses sight entirely.

"I can't use my power!" Someone in the crowd cries out. There's a moment. Itsuki tightens his hold on his bow, his fingers, his face, his arm, his pride, all stinging. His interface is - flickering. Glitched. Something is wrong. No access. No SP.

"What the hell did you DO?" Motoyasu tries again, less bluster this time, more fear.

"It's a Nullification Field, idiot! We're trapped here until - we - _cooperate._" Naofumi's sharp voice echoes through the fog, and only Rojeel at his back prevents Itsuki from whirling around to see if he's behind them now, somehow.

Cooperate? Idiotic. Who would believe that?

"...So we have to kill this boss, then." Itsuki translates.

"What? No, you can't try to fight Fitoria! That's not the point of -"

He's interrupted by Motoyasu rallying his party.

"We'll get that giant boss and get out of here! If it works for Naofumi, it needs to be stopped!" A few cheers go up - a familiar, loud laugh chimes in - and then it all doubles back deafeningly through the fog. All sound cuts off again, everyone still and poised. Waiting for more monsters.

None come.

"Idiots!" Naofumi says, and he sounds half despairing, half pissed. He doesn't raise his voice any more than his usual derisive, scolding pitch and the fog carries it easily. It's the same tone that Itsuki hates - like the Shield is older than them, stronger than them, knows better than them. He doesn't. He isn't. Itsuki's smarting grip tightens on his unresponsive bow.

But somehow, the fog makes it easier to listen to the Shield. When he doesn't have to see that bitter expression, those fierce eyes that look at Itsuki like he's the one in the wrong - has been on the wrong side of justice in this world, against Naofumi - it's a little simpler. Itsuki tries to anchor himself against the wound in his pride that Naofumi always salts and pretends it's nothing but a voice in the wind. A narrator. A tutorial screen. That's all this is.

Naofumi knows something they don't. If they can get it from him, they can use it properly.

The voice says; "You can't fight Fitoria. She's hundreds of years old, and uses nullification magic. She worked with the last round of Heroes, and she intends to force us to work together in the Waves. This isn't about her, it's to force us to work together."

Oh, so it's more of that. The same idea he's been peddling for - months, now. _Work together to defeat the Wave. Cooperate as Heroes. Ignore everything you hear about me. Believe me. Trust me. Listen to me, listen, listen, listen._ Maybe this Fitoria monster does work for him.

It's the same as - before. Looks like nothing has changed, after all. Exoneration doesn't look good on the Shield.

"We're leaving." Itsuki says, turning and walking into the mist, bumping into his party along the way.

Someone calls after them. It echoes like thunder. Itsuki can't listen.

* * *

First, they make a sturdy old house their base. Thick walls and high ceilings, so Itsuki can practice drawing his bow. The fog does not lift. His bow gets no lighter. Welst gives him a scrap of leather to use as a finger guard. It still aches. His aim is off. His stable arm aches with bruises.

They settle in for the night, his party trying their best to remain upbeat, to praise his quick progress in learning the weapon he's been using for months. They eat the rations in Rishia's bag and plan to head out at dawn.

They can't tell when dawn arrives.

The fog shrouds everything in a perpetual twilight. Itsuki cannot see the sun.

They head out anyway, needing to end this AOE field that's keeping them down. It's ridiculous. They'd had to light a fire using two knives as flints last night. No one could summon water so they couldn't even bathe. This whole farce is pointless and reductive. He has a Legendary Weapon - he doesn't need some unskippable tutorial on how to shoot!

Eventually, they encounter something large in the street. The noise it makes in the echoes is horrendous. Two bright eyes glitter from above and Itsuki prepares for a draw -

"Motoyasu, get out of the damn way!"

\- and hesitates.

"Wrong Hero." He calls back, lowering his weapon with a sigh. It's the Shield's damn bird. The noise must be the wheels over the flagstones of the main road.

"Great!" Naofumi calls back. "Move."

"Where are you going? Off to protect your boss? Where is it?"

"She's probably not even here anymore. Besides, you _know_ you aren't meant to fight her."

Itsuki grits his teeth, glad of the fog that hides the dull, patronizing expression the Shield must be leveling at him. He really is some kind of Demon.

"Whatever. Anyway, if you need food, I'm selling."

Itsuki's whole party perks up, mostly reluctantly. They hadn't exactly packed for an extended stay outside a populated town. Motoyasu must not have either, if they've already encountered one another.

Itsuki allows it. They circle the wagon and find barrels of fruit and a crate packed with bread and other stable goods. They're of a surprising quality and quantity.

_Why_ is a Legendary hero actually a merchant? Must be the fate of a Hero with such a weak weapon.

Itsuki's fairly certain Naofumi overcharges them. It's not like they're lacking in funds, though they are lacking in food, so he bites his tongue.

Later, they find Ren in the middle of a fight. Astoundingly, his whole party is there. It's closer to the outskirts of the village, and a small swarm of low level enemies are using the fog cover to attack. Itsuki leads his party in as cavalry, lending assistance.

It ends with Ren and Itsuki back to back, panting in the fog. Ren's form is weak and his swordsmanship is lacking. His right arm has taken slashing damage from a clawed beast jumping up from the road. Their parties do most of the work.

"...I can't access my inventory." Ren says quietly. The fog catches it. Swirls it around their ears. Itsuki hasn't tried. He's been too busy trying not to think about it and deeply invested in getting used to it at the same time. But the gem on his bow is dull, and his interface only flashes in sections when he tries anything.

Itsuki turns, meaning to ask - something - something about pairing up, maybe -

But Ren's arm is bleeding freely. The cut is deep and clean, a perfectly applied slash wound effect. He's staring at the empty potion bottle in his hand blankly. His party are standing by, looking alarmed.

His wound isn't healing.

"It's inert," He says.

_His wound isn't healing._

One of his party members springs back to life, ripping into her cloak and making strips. Bandages. Starts to wrap Ren's wound tightly.

"We should get back to base." She says tersely.

"It's fine." Ren snaps. "We didn't leave anything there that can help. I can keep going."

Ren can't keep going. He's already shaking from the blood loss. Itsuki's shaken, too. Potions should be free items! They're free actions during fights! This isn't right.

"Come to our base," Itsuki offers. "We have fresh food, and you can rest a little."

Ren seems to deflate, his sigh clearing a tiny patch of fog.

"Fine."

They had kept to the main streets, which were cobblestone, unlike the dirt side paths, and had Rishia memorize the way. She leads them back successfully, which earns her a hearty backslap and rare praise from Rojeel. It's the bare minimum of what she was tasked with, but Itsuki isn't concerned with that right now.

They share their bounty from the Shield and wrangle Ren into a chair for more secure bandages. A caster from his party produces a few sprigs of some herb that they mash into paste and set over the wrapping, securing it with more fabric. It's the best they can do.

One of Ren's fighters comes back after an hour, reporting the edge of the field impassable. They light a new fire with torn floorboards from the house across the street.

The dim light passes into an equally dim evening, and they wait it out, strategizing.

* * *

What is probably the next day, Ren is still wounded.

Itsuki can still barely fight. It's getting harder to draw his bow. When he rolls up his sleeve to check, the inside of his left elbow is black with heavy bruising. He borrows one of Rojeel's arm braces to cover it.

They find more low level beasts prowling, but no sign of the boss. They need to uncover the boss arena, somewhere in this muted village, to activate the final fight. Ren's party go off on their own to search. They come back with their own minor wounds. None of them are stopped by it. The caster brings in more herbs dug out of long abandoned gardens for Ren.

"We should probably find the Shield Hero," One of them says, sometime that might be night. Itsuki gets another arrow low and to the left of the makeshift target on the far wall. It seems to fall there no matter how he compensates for it. They got rid of the other target when Ren reopened his wound practicing his form.

"Hmph. Just because he sells things doesn't make them better. If you can find them in the town, then it's best to avoid him." Says Mald scornfully.

"What? Oh, no, I meant that he can probably help. They don't call him the Merciful Saint or whatever for nothing. We're good on herbs for now."

"The what." Says Itsuki blankly, missing the target. He lowers his bow finally.

"You've seen his wagon, right? They say the one pulled by the great bird is the traveling healer, who saves whole villages from disaster and then disappears." Says another of Ren's party, leaning his cheek in his palm, elbows on his knees as he lounges on a crate. Tone of supreme apathy. "Comes in the night with strong potions and rare items and cures all ills. Takes everyone for all the coin they got, too. Plants bloom in his wake, or whatever."

"I've heard those rumors," Says Welst carefully, ignoring Mald's scoff. "And it is a pretty distinctive bird." No one can refute that.

"I don't need healing." Says Ren. "I'm fine. It'll be okay by tomorrow."

Ren is not okay tomorrow. He's worse. They park him in front of the fire, where he sweats with a fever. The smell of herbs fills the house. The fog clings to the windows. Itsuki goes to find the shitty Shield for more food.

They make two encounters with enemy mobs, the last containing Motoyasu. _Only_ Motoyasu - the rest of his party is hiding in a nearby building. Too many casters. Motoyasu doesn't usually let them fight, anyway. He's an idiot. The range of his Spear, which he swings around like a stick, has at least kept him from being injured, too.

Itsuki sends Welst and Rishia back to guide them to the base. They need to strategize. Motoyasu tells them that the Shield is camped near the road leading into the forest. They lurk in a building until Rishia makes her way back to them. Itsuki is uncomfortable relying on someone who is half a party member at best, but she's the only one who can do it.

They find him there, at the farthest edge of the field.

They see the fire first, dancing through the fog, smell meat cooking second. Itsuki's mouth waters. He's so tired of bread and not-quite-lychee.

The bird is asleep by the fire, Raphtalia leaning on it. Naofumi is rummaging around in the wagon, but turns to them when a stone skitters under someone's boot. Raphtalia's ears twitch and she's on her feet, sword drawn in an instant. Itsuki raises his arm, blocking his party from engaging. After a few seconds, Raphtalia stands down, sheathing her sword with a sigh. Why are they so close to the edge? That's where all the monsters are spawning. Are they just using this to level up? Or is this where the boss should be?

"Motoyasu bought up a lot." Naofumi warns them, leaning against the wagon, arms crossed, already hostile. "If you want fresh meat, it's extra."

"Naofumi!" Raphtalia scolds him, then turns to Itsuki's party more than Itsuki with a slightly friendlier expression. "We can share."

The bird wakes up, and then its human form is sitting on the log instead, yawning widely. "Hi, bow man," It cheers quietly in greeting.

And then it's in front of him, staring with wide blue eyes, unblinking.

"You smell good!" It says, with too much happiness for the hour. The situation. The whole scene. Mald's hand on his sword is tight.

"_Filo_," Naofumi scolds it absently, then looks at him more sharply. ""Who's injured? Potions don't work here," His dark eyes rove over Itsuki's party with deeper interest.

"How - " Itsuki begins, then becomes entirely aware of the small monster bouncing closer, closer, humming in delight._ It smells Ren's blood?_

"Filo, go get another dragon." Naofumi tells it. It lights up, cheering again, and then rushes out of the fog bank like there isn't a barrier there. Itsuki splutters. They'd tried so many times to leave! What the hell does that mean? Is the Shield here because he can leave whenever?

Itsuki - can't raise his bow. If the Shield saw his form or his aim now, he'd just laugh.

"What is the meaning of this? Why are your party able to leave the area of effect?"

"It's not my party, it's just Filo. Fitoria likes her."

_What the actual fuck does that mean?_

"Do you want food or not?"

They do.

Mald gets into it with Naofumi, haggling fiercely over the price of the last two loaves of bread with far too much tension from too many sources to ever agree on anything. The bird reappears with a slightly mangled and beheaded young dragon. Mald is delighted enough to let go of the five copper price hike.

Rishia sits up front with Naofumi and guides them through the fog, the bird preening in delight and the gutted dragon corpse slung over Mald's shoulders as he and Rojeel walk behind. Only Raphtalia and Itsuki fit in the back of the wagon. It's well loaded with crates of currently inert potions, dried herbs, and various barrels.

Neither the Bow Hero or Raphtalia make conversation.

They arrive in the same low light as they left, finding one of Ren's fighters guarding the door and Motoyasu's party taking up residence in the house next door.

The situation is too - too much, too uncertain, too exhausting, for them to have any type of feast about it, but the dragon steaks cook up nicely and it greatly lifts everyone's mood. The bones and trimmings bubble in a large cauldron over the kitchen fire for broth in the morning. The house is warmed through and smells incredible. The heat fogs the windows and obscures the issues outside.

Once Ren has eaten, Naofumi gives him some kind of tea. One of Ren's party keeps asking questions, but Naofumi keeps answering with surprising patience. It all goes over Itsuki's head, except for the most common herbs. It's only when he unwraps the bandages to check Ren's wound that Ren reacts.

"Can't you leave it alone?" He asks tiredly, nose wrinkling in the most disgusted expression Itsuki has ever seen him wear as he chokes down the medicinal brew.

"Nope." Says Naofumi flatly. "A fever doesn't come from nowhere when you have an untreated wound." Ren sighs, and blanches his way through more tea.

The bandages come off. Naofumi doesn't say anything for a long moment. Holds Ren's arm steady, bent close to the fire. Then -

"This is infected."

Ren stares up at him, confused. Raphtalia comes over. The party member leans in.

"We could only keep it clean..." She disparages.

"No, it's fine. You used what you had. But now - we don't know how long this field will last - Filo, can you try to contact her again?" The bird chirps an affirmative from the other side of the room and then wonders back out the door.

"Ren," He says then, more intently, more quietly, "If Fitoria won't lift the fog, are okay with me treating you?"

"...how?" He asks.

Naofumi sighs and straightens up. "It'll need cleaned and drained. Probably some stitches."

Ren's caster winces and another huffs, his many messy scars testament to himself having gone through field surgery in the past.

"Eh, a couple stitches won't hurt ya, Hero. Don't think the Shield Demon should be the one doin' it, though." Mald says, leaning back in his chair, making it creak. Arms crossed and eyes closed like a wise old uncle predicting the weather on the porch step.

"Ren," Naofumi says flatly, ignoring everyone else, still holding Ren's arm, not looking anywhere but the Sword.

Itsuki sucks in a breath, starting to get worried with how completely serious the Shield seems in this. "You can't _preform surgery_, you -" But Itsuki's incredibly valid concern is cut off by one of Naofumi's glares.

"I'm a healer, idiot. What do you think I've been doing, shoving people in my shield? _Ren_," He says again, turning his burning attention on the silent Sword Hero once more. "_Do you want to loose the arm?"_

Ren's other hand is drawn in a fist, his face shielded as he stares at the ground. He says nothing. His injured arm is very still in Naofumi's gentle hold.

"Fine," Noafumi says finally, calmly, disappointed, unsurprised. Drops Ren's arm. The Sword's rising party backs down like the tide.

He applies fresh bandages, looser than Itsuki thinks they should be, and commands him to keep it dry at all cost. No herbs this time. It's too late for that.

"I've never done a field amputation before. Call me in two days when you need it." And then the Shield is gone, swallowed almost instantly by the fog. The wagon rolls away.

Everything in the hollow building is quiet and unbalanced.

It's - it's absolutely ridiculous! Why would there ever be such realistic damage against the Legendary Hero players? It makes no sense. Ren will just have to deal with this negative status effect for a little longer, and once they kill the boss, he can be healed. It's really unfortunate that it's his dominant arm, but the other Heroes and their parties can make up for it. Ren will be fine.

Ren can wait it out.

They all hunker down in the buildings and wait the night out.

Itsuki takes his party out early the next time enough of them wake up, hunting through the mist for the boss. The aura here is so unsettling that he feels like he hardly slept. Hardly feels like he's walking. They only encounter more low level and mid level enemies. In buildings, on roofs, roaming the streets, diving up from the sewers.

Itsuki is worse off than the Sword or the Spear. Maybe it's because a bow is a more involved weapon than a blade. Maybe because none of them have had formal training. Maybe it's because he isn't gravely injured. Still, he's nowhere near to what he was before this Nullification Field rose up. The tension in the string feels so much heavier than he remembers, his aim is shit without magic, and the arrows tend to shoot wide and wobbly and deal so little damage even when he hits his mark. Even through the makeshift glove, his fingers ache. His shoulder quickly grows sore. He nicks his own cheek in a wild drawback, trying to respond too fast to something he misses anyway. His left arm is one throbbing bruise.

His party, ever loyal, ever shallow, praise his efforts. Keeping up an optimism that not only feels totally false, but is ultimately useless. Rishia is dealing more damage in her hesitant attacks with a dagger than Itsuki is with his Legendary Weapon. But still, he feeds into the farce, perfectly aware of how precarious this situation is, how important it is to keep up his appearance for them. He can acknowledge and accept the situation while also doing his best to continue contributing as best he can. He and Motoyasu are the last Heroes standing, now. Of the Heroes who matter.

He has a bow, he has arrows, and he has a duty to get through this encounter. It'll all go back to normal, after this is over.

No more clues make themselves known. The fog never abates.

Several times the party comes to a halt in the mist, the sounds of a fight echoing from somewhere else. The sound surrounds them, bounces off the fog like mirrors. Who is it? Motoyasu? Ren, come out to join them? Naofumi?

It's impossible to pinpoint, so they can only wait in silent anxiety for the noise to die down, their backs together in the middle of an empty street. They wait for whatever is happening somewhere out there to meet it's fated end. Once the silence rings out again, they loosen their frozen limbs and pretend not to be afraid. Carry on.

They continue, keeping close - it would be too easy to get separated and lost in this fog. Itsuki's Companion Beacon is also not functioning, so they can't rely on his party being able to answer his call. It's a small miracle no one has been badly injured yet. How are they going to fight this boss?

The oppressive fog muffles all sound but for the ones it chooses to amplify. The breaths of his party behind him sound like a pack of wolves. His dwindling supply of arrows rattle like boulders in his quiver.

Itsuki's jaw aches from holding the stress of it against his teeth. None of them talk much, though Rishia tries. Her voice echoes impossibly, and they all freeze up for a few valuable seconds. No one even bothers to chide her, with her hands over her mouth and her eyes huge in fear as they all heft their weapons, uncertain of a response.

Nothing comes of it. They turn back.

They return to the base to find one of Ren's party members pacing in front of the open door, biting at their thumb and staring listlessly into the mist rather than standing guard. They don't seem to notice Itsuki's party until they actually stand a few bare feet away in the fading light.

They stop pacing, then finally face him, pale under their hat.

"Have - have you seen the Shield today?" They ask, voice dull. Mald snorts derisively at the mention of the villain Hero. Did they go back to the border?

"No." Itsuki snaps, too exhausted to wonder himself. They had not encountered anything but enemies. Only sounds in the mist.

"We might be needing him soon," They whisper, glancing into the building.

Itsuki elects to ignore this encounter, even though the secrecy and stress and silence is building up in him and making his heart beat uncomfortably. His right arm is on fire and his left elbow aches. His fingers are raw.

Inside, two more of Ren's party members are standing together, whispering harshly. They stop when Itsuki enters and there is a strange, tense silence while they all meet eyes. The caster passes off the torch to the fighter who falls back to lean against the wall. She meets Itsuki's gaze with a hard expression.

"Bow Hero, do you or any of your party have any herbs with you?"

No. Of course not. Why would they ever need herbs? Those are only good for potion making, and potions are more effective to carry. No use in keeping ingredients when Itsuki can easily craft from his Legendary Weapon. No use in making room for things with such limited use.

"Um!" Rishia squeaks and jumps when everyone turns to stare at her. She twists the front of her dress in her hands and tries to meet the caster's gaze. "I - I have a few herbs with me?"

The caster sighs and beckons her forward. Rishia glances at Itsuki, like she expects him to stop her, then scurries forward.

They disappear up the stairs to the second floor. Ren's chair by the fire is empty.

Itsuki whirls away, too tense and uncomfortable to stay still. The fog filling the door pens him in. One of Motoyasu's girls laughs next door. Itsuki's head pounds, but it's so far from pain.

Another rough - _night_ \- passes in rations and echoes.

Itsuki wakes to Welst shaking his shoulder. The pain there jolts him up instantly.

Minutes later, Itsuki waits in the door way, observing the howl of the wind, the sway of the buildings. The fog is thicker in it, and it's honestly too strong to move in well.

They're trapped.

They're trapped and one of Ren's party has set out for the Shield Hero, Rishia guiding them.

The dew of the fog fills his lungs and eyes, and his whole skull aches with the tension he keeps having to release from his shoulder. His right hand is half numb.

It's impossible to tell how long it's been, what time it is, when a new round of echoes filter in. Itsuki recognizes wagon wheels in the claustrophobic dim, so he forces himself to relax again and wait.

The massive philolial is impossible to mistake for anything else._ The traveling Saint_, Itsuki's ass. The wagon pulls in as close to the door as it can, helping to muffle the sound of the wind, and then five people climb down from the back. The fighter from Ren's party doesn't even glance at Itsuki. Rishia tries very hard to do the same. Naofumi glares, arms already crossed under his shield.

Itsuki's party stands behind him, a solid wall against the figures from the fog. When Naofumi doesn't gloat or mock them, Itsuki deflates and steps aside.

"Ren is upstairs. You better be serious about this." He warns.

"You three are the ones taking everything lightly."

Itsuki can't say anything.

Upstairs, Ren is sitting in a chair by the window. The bed is empty, the moth eaten sheets torn into bandage strips. The swaying of the house is more noticeable up here. Itsuki is too strung out to feel nauseous about it.

Ren is pale and sickly, but he sits with his usual aloof expression and posture, though it is more tense and he's avoiding his right arm. His party are stationed around the room - they stand to attention when Itsuki opens the door and allows Naofumi entrance.

The Shield ignores them all, marches straight up to Ren. Ren stares back, unflinching, as Naofumi sets an unnecessary hand on his forehead. The Sword is visibly flushed and feverish, and says nothing.

Finally, the Shield sighs and steps back.

"I don't heal for free, you know."

Itsuki goes to snap, to say something about how ludicrous that kind of demand is, but Ren interrupts.

"...I still have some of my stipend from the king. Any price is fine."

"Any?" Naofumi muses somewhat humorlessly. "Well, let me see it first."

Naofumi unwraps the bandages quickly, winding them in a neat ball in one hand. His mouth pinches in a thin line before skin is even exposed, just from seeing how the bandages are damp and stained, despite the bucket full of them near the door. The wound that is finally revealed is very red, puffy and irritated even to Itsuki's untrained eyes. It looks like a massive bee sting. Looks painful. The gash itself is wider, even though the tight bandages should have held it together.

That's how wounds work, right? You stop the bleeding, then use pressure to hold it together, then it heals. Forms a scar. That's how this works.

It looks worse.

It looks worse.

Naofumi leans away and whispers something to Raphtalia, who immediately leaves the room.

"Ren," He says next, voice much softer than before, kneeling down to face Ren fully, "Potions aren't working, so we're going to have to do everything manually. There's no pain medication, you understand?"

Ren finally looks up at him, looks young. Looks scared.

"I -" He says, then grows determined. "I want to keep fighting. Do it."

Naofumi nods once and puts one hand on Ren's head. "Okay. It'll take fifteen minutes, I promise."

The prep takes twice that.

Itsuki would do nothing but watch, his fascination bordering on horror, bordering further into exhausted disbelief, but Naofumi is a dictator who commands everyone who stumbles into his sight. Itsuki finds himself using some kind of wheel to grind pungent smelling herbs into a paste that Naofumi deems barely passable at some unidentifiable point. Party members from every Hero are wondering about in a confused but singular purpose in washing one oddly textured cloth in boiling water or carefully repairing a bucket. Moving the furniture. Ushering Filo out of the room. Collecting well water.

Ren stays in the chair, and small tables are set on either side of the armrests. One is higher than the other, and Ren sets his head down there, curled in the crook of his good arm.

There's no getting around lighting a fire and boiling water the real old fashioned way; they need to sterilize everything and fire magic isn't an option. Raphtalia brought back a small chest of equipment that needs to be cleaned and laid out on the bed. Fresh bandages. Towels. Small sharp things. Thick black thread. Fresh and dried herbs.

The needle that Naofumi holds in the fire with a pair of jewelers pliers is curved.

Itsuki blinks, finding himself suddenly under Ren's scrutiny, and tries not to think about how this all feels like a dream. Too fast. Tries to smile instead, and offer optimism. Ren closes his eyes and turns his face back into the crook of his good arm. Itsuki. Can't. Doesn't know what to do. Not here, not now. He's just a hero. He's just a bow.

Here, he's not even those things.

Motoyasu eventually launches into the room, Myne on his heels, trying to be loud. Something about Naofumi attacking Ren. Itsuki is very tired.

"_Motoyasu_," He snaps before Naofumi can even start. "Either be helpful or go back out on patrol." The Spear sulks like he's the victim here, but one of his - newer? original? eh? - party members peeks from around him and joins in the fuss, finding Raphtalia in the crowd. The rest of them back off, Myne with a hard glare at the situation in general and Naofumi's back in particular.

Itsuki isn't an idiot.

Eventually everything winds down, and the pieces of a puzzle that Itsuki is unfamiliar with are arranged in such a way that he can only understand it perfectly.

"Alright," Naofumi calls over the fog rising in the windows, "Everybody out but party members. Or - you leave them places," He mutters absently, then leans down to address Ren. "Who do you want to stay?"

"...I don't care," Ren mutters back, resolute, only having grown more tense by the minute.

"You will."

There's a moment.

"Itsuki - can stay. My - party can stay. Those who know what to do..."

One of Ren's party members - the one who had called Naofumi, had been using the herbs - comes forward. The one woman from Motoyasu's party. Two others from Ren's, who look more nervous then Ren does, clutching each other's hands.

Everyone else filters out. Rishia - squeamish - practically runs. Motoyasu stays in the doorway, arms crossed like a bodyguard. Naofumi glares for a moment, then turns away.

He's already shed his cape and armor, and now he rolls his sleeves up firmly, then dunks his arms in a steaming bucket of water without a flinch. Raphtalia helps Ren settle properly in the makeshift surgical suite, his wounded arm bared across the lower table.

"It'll be alright," Raphtalia tells the pale Sword. Pats his knee consolingly. Gives him the leather belt someone else sacrificed. "Everyone is here for you, and Naofumi knows what he's doing."

"Yeah, yeah," Naofumi mutters. The floor creaks quietly under his boots. The dry wood scrapes when he nudges another bucket into place beside the table.

"Ren," He begins, setting one hand over Ren's clenched fist. Ren jolts. "I have one important job for you, okay? Keep this hand relaxed. if you tense up like this you'll bleed more. You can grip the table, just keep it flat."

Ren nods into his elbow, where he's firmly buried his face, the belt between his teeth.

Naofumi pats his flattened, trembling hand once, then the work begins.

The tourniquet isn't that bad. Itsuki's had his blood drawn before. They all have. Seeing it done with fabric is weird, but the action is so familiar and normal and medical that it settles Itsuki's nerves better than the repetitive grinding did.

Then Ren is bleeding, and it's strangely thin. Watery. The caster at his back keeps her hands firm on his shoulders and the other two tighten their grips on his good arm, holding him down. Raphtalia keeps her place at Naofumi's side, navigating the instruments and details, sturdy as any nurse. Motoyasu is frozen by the door, very pale and staring resolutely at the ceiling, jaw tight. Itsuki takes the place in front of Ren, holding his twitching legs down, half embracing his fellow Hero, in the only position where any of his face can be seen. Just his mouth, strained with biting. Itsuki can feel his heart pounding, his breaths coming in measured gasps.

He doesn't start crying until the needle comes out.

Motoyasu has turned away, leaning into the door, still standing in solidarity but only barely. Itsuki can't look away. It's gory and awful, but somehow amazing. Ren's wound is less swollen, and the parted flesh is coming back together. The stitches are neat and even, larger and farther apart than Itsuki thought they would be, but Naofumi's grim confidence keeps him from even thinking that it might be anything less than perfect.

After a small eternity, Naofumi leans back, eases the tension from his shoulders and takes a small pair of scissors from Raphtalia. The needle with its bloodied thread and the scissors are both dropped into the bucket of still hot water, where all the rest of the used tools have sunk.

"It's over." He says, and the whole room exhales.

"It's done now, Ren, are you still with me?"

The Sword doesn't move, but his mouth slowly unclenches until Itsuki can help him ease the belt out. The marks are deep, almost clean through. He takes a shuddering breath, chokes on it. Croaks something like an affirmative.

"Good. You did really good, we just need to clean you up now, okay?" Naofumi tells him. The water he quickly washes his hands in turns red. The spear follower has the third bucket, with a clean towel already soaked and wrung out. She hands it off to Naofumi who wipes Ren's arm down quickly, then she takes it back, replacing it with the compress she's kept hot, full of the herbs Itsuki pulverized earlier.

Ren looks so much better with the clean fabric covering his clean wound. Pale and shaky and coated in sweat, but healthier, Itsuki thinks. The party members back off a bit, looking equally wrung out, giving Naofumi room to use the last towel to clean Ren's face. Itsuki slowly unclenches his own hands, eases back from the death grip he'd ended up in, a bit of head rush keeping him down.

"You can move your arm now, just don't tense up, alright?" He holds Ren's hand carefully, helping him settle his arm down by his side. Then he says, with no real heat or anger, in a voice that simply offers no argument - "Motoyasu, quit being useless and come help me move him."

The Spear is the palest one in the room. Looks shell-shocked. Quieter than Itsuki has ever seen him. Tries to open his mouth several times, but Naofumi isn't so much as looking at him as he and Itsuki get Ren sitting more or less upright. There's no way Itsuki is standing any time soon, so he can't disagree with Naofumi's decision. Eventually Motoyasu manages to stop stumbling and come forward, tall enough to lift the younger Hero easily and bring him to the bed Raphtalia has prepared.

Then it's truly over.

The bloodied water is poured out in the dirt somewhere, and then the room is bare of any trace of pain but for the settling stains on the table. The smell of the herbs covers it.

Itsuki is broken out of his own stupor by a gentle hand tousling his hair.

"Go get some sleep, too." Naofumi tells him, in the same voice he spoke to Ren with.

Itsuki is exhausted. Itsuki is exhausted. Ren is asleep in the bed. Safe. The two party members are collapsed in the corner. Motoyasu is slumped against the wall. Raphtalia, the castor, and the other woman are talking quietly in the doorway, yawning into their hands.

Itsuki finds his own place close to where Naofumi is kneeling by Ren's side, cleaning his tools. The low light of the lantern glitters off the blades.

He doesn't know when he falls asleep, but it's heavy.

When Itsuki finally wakes up, he finds Naofumi's cape draped over him like a blanket. It feels like a reward. Like he's passed some kind of test. Can't decide if it is humiliating or comforting. The fog still fills the streets. Ren sleeps soundly. Itsuki passes back out as well, not wanting to think anymore.


End file.
